


Our Cynical Minds Will Make It Totally Worth It

by Turquink



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Oneshot, and don't worry he's still ace, i just wanna write about my child ok???, not much angst, well more like a series of oneshots, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:39:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9642983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turquink/pseuds/Turquink
Summary: Jughead Jones did not like girls.Well, that wasn't entirely true. He didn't dislike girls, he just...didn't get along with people, in general. Not the way other people did.





	1. Chapter 1

Jughead Jones did not like girls.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He didn't _dislike_ girls, he just...didn't get along with people, in general. Not the way other people did. 

However, nothing could explain why he didn't just plain bolt when one of the aforementioned girls slid into the seat across from him in his booth at Pop's, sipping on a vanilla milkshake and peering curiously at his laptop. His tapping came to a halt, and his gaze slowly rose to meet hers.

"Can I...help you?" Jughead asked. The girl in front of him swallowed before speaking.

"What are you working on?" She asked. Jughead's eyebrows knitted together.

"Why are you asking me this?" He asked, not even trying to conceal his defensiveness. Sure, he was branded as being the "emo weirdo" at school, but that didn't mean he wanted the entire town knowing he was obsessively documenting the death and investigation of Jason Blossom.

The girl took a quiet sip of her milkshake. "No real reason. Just kinda bored." Jughead nodded, focusing back into his screen. The almost furious, fast typing returned, filling the awkward silence with a soothing, light tapping noise.

After ten minutes, Jughead let out a frustrated sigh. "Why are you still here?"

"Wow. Way to be rude to a lady," the girl deadpanned. 

"Way to be rude to a stranger you've never met."

"Touché," the girl said, sipping her milkshake again. Jughead scoffed, going back to work. 

However, no matter how much he tried to focus, he could feel her staring at him. Her gaze was heavy, feeling like a missile locked on to strike. He finally slammed his computer screen shut.

"Okay, what do I have to do so that you'll leave me alone, huh?" He asked. All he wanted was to work on his novel, maybe eat a burger or three. He didn't ask for human interaction.

The girl made eye contact, finally setting her now empty milkshake down. "Let me draw you," she propositioned. 

Jughead quirked an eyebrow. "Like a French girl, or...?" 

"No, idiot," the girl breathed. "Just. Like. Just do what you were doing, ok? Just one sketch and then I'll leave and never bother you again, if that's what you want."

It very much was what he wanted, so Jughead found himself nodding. "Okay. I accept." He was quiet for a minute, then spoke again. "The name's Jughead."

"(Y/N)," the girl replied, pulling out a sketchbook and a set of pencils from seemingly nowhere. She set them down on the table, grabbed a pencil, and watched him.

Feeling a little violated and more than a little self conscious, Jughead opened his computer and started typing again. (Y/N) had the gaze of a hawk, calculating as she glanced back and forth from paper to subject. He gulped, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"Dude, relax," her voice spoke, jarring Jughead out of his stupor. 

"What? I am relaxed."

"Your hands are shaking," (Y/N) pointed out. She reached out to gently grab his hands, but before she could, he flinched away.

"Sorry," Jughead said.

"No, I get it. Not touchy. Got it," she said, awkwardly retracting her arm. "But seriously, I'm not gonna kill you or anything. Chill."

Jughead hesitated for a moment, then let out a sigh, trying to force his body to relax. 

"...so how come I've never seen you around before? Riverdale's a pretty small town," he asked. (Y/N) hummed.

"Just moved. My mom lived here as a kid and missed it, so here we are." A couple of particularly angry pencil strokes telegraphed pretty clearly that (Y/N) didn't want to talk about her family life that much. Jughead was nothing if not observant.

"I've lived here my whole life. This place... I simultaneously hate it and am intrigued by it," Jughead confessed.

"Yeah?" (Y/N) asked, "How so?"

Jughead looked around the diner before speaking. There weren't that many people around, and those that were were too occupied with friends and their jobs to listen. "Do you know about the Jason Blossom incident on July Fourth?" 

(Y/N)'s eyes lit up, a spark of curiosity. "No. Tell me about it."

The neon lights of the diner painted the pair in a stark contrast of color, him a cool blue, her a bright red. As Jughead told her the story--about the Blossom twins, the fateful boat ride, the body that was never found even though they searched and searched for weeks--(Y/N) sat her pencil down, the small graphite sketch capturing exactly what she wanted it to: the darkness of his hair, the spark of a madman in his eyes, the subtle look he had that said he was looking for trouble and bound to find it.  
Oh, she liked this kid. She liked him a lot.

“And then--”

“Oh.”

“...what?” Jughead asked, confused. (Y/N) had been mostly quiet this whole time, nodding when she understood what was happening, but now she was staring at a spot above his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I think your story’s about to get a lot more interesting,” (Y/N) murmured, gesturing to the TV screen behind him. Jughead turned around in his seat, eyes widening at what he saw projected on the screen.

“ _ **JASON BLOSSOM DEATH RULED HOMICIDE.”**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This one's a little short but I'm going for a bit of a slow burn. Happy Valentine's Day. <3

(Y/N) sat in the booth at Pop’s, inking today’s doodle. This time, she had gotten tired of drawing faces and had chosen the perfectly crafted oreo milkshake—extra whipped cream, one maraschino cherry on top—that sat before her on the table. She didn’t look up as the bell above the door rang, signaling someone’s entrance. However, she did notice when someone climbed over the back of the booth and crouched on the seat, stealing her cherry and popping it into his mouth with a grin.

(Y/N) looked up at Jughead with surprise. “Hey! That was mine!”

Jughead raised an eyebrow. “Ah, not even a hello? Have you no manners?”

“Have _you_ no home?” she snarked back. Jughead shrugged.

“I like it here. Sometimes Pop Tate gives me free food.”

“Whatever. Sit down like a normal person, you heathen.”

“Never.” 

Regardless, he lowered himself down onto the booth seat. The silence between them was comfortable and light, him staring at the paper curiously. “…Were you drawing that?” he asked. (Y/N) looked up.

“No, it just appeared on the paper! Wow!” she deadpanned, getting a dry laugh from him.

“Funny.” He twisted in his seat to where Pop Tate was flipping burgers behind the counter. “Pop! Can I get two cheeseburgers over here please?” The man nodded, and Jug gave him a thumbs up.

“Jughead Jones, actually paying for food?” (Y/N) gasped. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Oh, ha-ha. Funny,” he replied. (Y/N) smiled at him, going back to her drawing. Jughead pulled out his laptop, opening up his manuscript and beginning to type away. After a few minutes of silence, (Y/N) peered over the top of the screen. Jughead looked up at her questioningly. “What?”

“You heard about Ch—“

“Two burgers for Jughead Jones,” Pop Tate interrupted, setting down a plate of two burgers and fries on the edge of the booth. Jughead thanked him and shut his laptop.

(Y/N) waited until Pop was out of earshot before continuing. “You heard about Cheryl, didn’t you?”

“How could I not?” Jug said through a mouthful of fries. “It was in the middle of our biology class. Everyone was talking about it.”

“…You don’t really think she killed him, do you?” (Y/N) said hesitantly. “It seems a little too obvious.”

“For all we know, it could’ve been,” Jughead agreed. “But I don’t think it was her, either.”

Another long silence, this time weighed down like rocks thrown in a river, with only the clatter from the kitchen and soft music playing from the jukebox in the corner. Then, Jughead spoke up.

“Do you want one of these?” he asked. (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him. 

“You? Sharing food? I must be hallucinating,” she said. “What’s the catch?”

Jug smiled a little, a noncommittal grin that still made her heart thump in her chest, because only a short while ago she was just another person to scowl at and now…

“No catch!” Jughead exclaimed, putting his hands up in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture. “You just looked hungry. And I’m sorry for stealing your cherry.”

(Y/N) laughed. “Apology accepted.”

Even with the world turning on its head, some things in Riverdale would always remain the same—the glaring neon lights casting soft shadows over friends, sharing food in the comfort of each other’s presence.


End file.
